To the Father of My Children

To the father of my children:
Open up your willing heart!
Take what music I can give you,
Hearing, too, my silent song.
Even as, arrayed in passion,
Finding love, I play my part,
A wonder like a wind whips through me,
Truth unknown for which I long.
How beautiful, this unspent yearning,
Ever for the darkness burning,
Rising like a summer storm!
To My Man on Father's Day
To my man on Father's Day,
On whom my life depends,
My children's cheerful champion:
You are where yearning ends.
My paramour and harlequin,
All I want, and all I can
Not want and be OK.
To My Dads on Father's Day
To my dads on Father's Day,
On both of whom we both depend:
My daughter reinvents my themes.
Years pass, and well-wrought love remains.
Dads are saviors, straight or gay,
Always where our oceans end,
Deliverers of desperate dreams,
Solid land where sunshine reigns.
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Felicia

Felicia
Felicia has a winter in her spring.
Each day the frost within her meets the sun.
Loving isn't easy when a child
Is tended by a rabid dog gone wild.
Closeness means the torture has begun.
Icy though her heart, it yet will sing
As slowly tears just melted through her run.

Caitlynn
Caitlynn, like us all, has just one father,
A person whom she loves but does not see.
In fact, he has decided not to bother
To be the person only he can be.
Losing him, for her, is like a head-on:
Years and years of unremitting pain.
Nor will she ever feel quite free to let on,
Numb with rage, the fear that she's to blame.

David
David is a person much beloved:
A sweet and gentle spirit, inward bound.
Viewing David's agonies uncovered,
Immolations fifty years have smothered,
Doesn't help one know why he has drowned.

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